


Bella Abides

by becky_dull



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Character Study, Gen, No Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 13:16:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3135842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becky_dull/pseuds/becky_dull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By the time Edward sees her, Bella already has a lot going on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bella Abides

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kwritten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kwritten/gifts).



> Inspired by a conversation with K. about Bella as a character versus _Twilight_ as a work, I went and started reading the first book, and found myself getting bored as soon as Bella started glaring at / swooning over Edward. This is the result.
> 
> Title is partly from _The Big Lebowski_ and partly from the last line of an otherwise less-than-inspiring [Robert Graves poem](http://fernandodecicco.blogspot.com/2012/02/robert-graves-in-her-praise.html).

She thought about going back to Arizona for college -- her mom kept gunning for it, and even her dad talked up Arizona State. But everyone she was still Facebook friends with from back home kept talking about Arizona State as a party school -- some happily, some with implied eye-rolls. “The only way ‘party’ and ‘school’ should be in the same sentence is if it’s something political, like ‘The Republican Party doesn’t do enough for schools,’” Bella said to Jessica, who had already decided on Oregon, and Jessica gave _her_ an eye-roll.

She didn’t get into Stanford, and Reed and Berkeley didn’t give her enough financial aid. So UDub it was. When she was being honest with herself, she’d admit that this was probably the thing she wanted.

For a little while she was working at the downtown Borders, mostly doing inventory, but then... yeah. “It was my dream job,” she groaned to her roommate, Andrew.

“Like all dreams, this one must end,” Andrew replied. He's a Cornish student aspiring to be a puppeteer, so he's never expected to be anything but broke, ever. Also, he likes Disney movies waaaay too much.

He did help her get a shift as a receptionist at a feminist health clinic, but that fell apart the day a woman came into the waiting room already hemorrhaging and Bella fainted right out of her chair. After _that_ was a series of jobs too boring and underpaid to even bother remembering before she finally did the clichéd thing and got a job at a coffee shop. Not even an _independent_ coffee shop. Whatever. The pay was half decent and her manager wasn’t too bad, willing to schedule around her classes.

Her plan is to double major in English and sociology. She even has a thesis topic picked out. (“That puts you ahead of, like, ninety percent of the people there,” said Emma, a senior and her best friend at the coffee shop. _Well, yeah_ , Bella replied, although not out loud.) She wants to write about how various non-Native American entities in Seattle -- high schools, city government, that sort of thing -- have historically Native American symbolism to their own ends. Her father thinks this is a terrible idea. He’s not that bad, but he keeps asking her what kind of job she wants after she graduates.

“You should think about grad school,” said her adviser.

“You should think about grad school,” says Emma, who’s working half-heartedly on law school applications herself. “You’re so smart.”

“You should absolutely not think about grad school,” said Charlene, her TA for Austen and Eliot. "Oh my God, no. No. Save yourself. I don’t know what I’m going to do in three years. I don’t want you to make the same mistake I made.”

Bella does and doesn’t think about grad school. The way she sees it, whatever job she gets afterwards is going to be crappy anyway, so why not hang out and study some more? But the problem doesn’t seem as urgent as making it to her next shift on time or keeping her truck running or finishing up the Gramsci she’s been assigned during breaks.

She goes for walks, and sometimes to concerts, and once a week she and Andrew cook dinner for some friends and then they all hang out and watch _Lost_. She’s not happy, exactly. She’s not sure how anyone gets to be happy, with so much wrong with the world and so many problems that should have been solved a long time ago and so many people seemingly committed to stupidity. But she’s not exactly unhappy either.

She’s sitting out in a rare patch of sunlight on a March afternoon during break, trying to will herself to get back to _The Global Woman_ , and Emma comes out to sit next to her and light a cigarette.

“I thought you were going to quit,” Bella says.

“I thought I was going to quit too,” Emma says affably. She never gets mad. “So why didn’t you go over and say hi to that guy?”

“Which one?”

“The one who was staring at you.”

Bella frowns. “Why would I say hi to him if he was staring at me? That’s creepy.”

“I mean, it was an intense stare, but not a, I’m going to follow you home and axe murder you stare.”

“Ah.”

“That one,” and Emma points across the parking lot.

Bella has to shield her hand with her eyes. “I mean, yeah, he’s cute, but... oh, wow.”

“What?”

“He’s got, like, glitter on or something.”

“Seriously?” Emma’s squinting too. “I don’t remember that!”

“Why didn’t you go say hi to him?”

“Because he was staring at you, idiot. I’m not going to get between my friend and a guy.”

“There’s no between.” Bella yawns. “You should’ve told me about the glitter, though.”

“I don’t remember the glitter! Maybe he put it on the men’s room, or something! Maybe he’s some sort of secret glam rocker.”

“You think?”

“A girl can dream.”

“So many guys here, they think it’s still 1993 and they can just come around in flannel and jeans.”

“Have you ever seen _Singles_?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, you can’t study mythologizing of Seattle and not see that movie.” Emma pats her knee. “Okay, that’s our next movie night, you have to see it.”

“Okay,” Bella says. The glittery guy is getting into his car, and she looks away again, since his car is embarrassingly, nastily expensive; like he’s one of those secure boys who experiments with gender identity as a way of claiming some vulnerability, since he was born too rich to be vulnerable, and picking up girls. She shuts her binder and starts getting her notes together; her break’s almost over. He’s probably not very happy; those rich boys never are.

She’s not happy, but she’s not unhappy either: there’s so much to do.


End file.
